


taken

by Noa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform, alcohol mention, implied responsible consumption of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noa/pseuds/Noa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's complicated," Dave says, but it's not complicated at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Striders in a happy, loving d/s relationship that is fulfilling and satisfying without taking it to a sexual level. That's all there really is to say about it.

**1.**

Dirk is on the couch when Dave comes home. He doesn’t need to look up from his laptop to know it’s been a rough day- the sound of overly expensive Italian shoes being flung against the door is enough of a clue. Dirk keeps listening: there’s some muttered curses, the rustling of a jacket, a few impatient footsteps, and then there’s Dave, standing right in front of him. His hair is a bit messy (even Dirk’s styling products only hold up so long), his skin seems paler than usual, and his lips are dry. Dirk puts his laptop aside.

Dirk waits, but instead of speaking up, Dave bends at the knee, and lowers himself to the ground. He sits down at Dirk’s feet, his cheek resting against the side of his leg; Dirk can feel the deep breath Dave releases through the fabric of his jeans. Dirk reaches out, and gently pets Dave’s hair. Almost instantly, Dave slumps against Dirk’s shins, visibly relaxing.

“That kind of day, huh?” Dirk says sympathetically. Dave simply nods. Dirk slides his hand down, and lightly scratches at the back of Dave’s neck. Soft sounds of appreciation emerge from the back of Dave’s throat. Dirk can hear Dave’s breathing slow- he smiles. He grabs a cushion from the couch and drops it next to Dave, who startles as if he’d been sleeping.

“Thanks.” Dave says quietly, and he takes the cushion from Dirk’s hands. He stuffs it under his knees, and shifts around until he’s comfortable. Once he’s settled, Dave leans against Dirk’s leg again, hugging it to his body.

“You’re going to fall asleep like this.” Dirk states casually. He sounds amused, and Dave nuzzles his knee in reply. Dirk leans back, sighs, and closes his eyes, his hand still stroking Dave’s hair.

There was a certain intimacy to these moments; those days when Dirk can tell from the look in Dave’s eyes, that he doesn’t have to offer him a place on the couch. Those times when Dirk unwinds Dave, simply by allowing him to sit at his feet for a while. Sometimes Dave is stubborn, and Dirk has to make him kneel before Dave lets himself relax. Other times, Dave is long past self-awareness, and he just walks up to Dirk and drops to the floor. The ways in which Dave moves to his knees vary, from the controlled routine Dirk taught him, to unceremoniously throwing himself to the ground. Dirk never gets tired of watching.

Dave’s yawn is muffled slightly from having his mouth pressed against Dirk’s leg; Dirk yawns too. He murmurs praise to go along with his gentle touches; how well Dave’s done, how proud he is of his hard work. Dave soaks up the affection like he’s been starving for it- he always does, and it just makes Dirk want to give him more.

Then, Dirk feels a shiver on Dave’s skin, and he makes a mental note to keep a blanket by the couch in the future; despite the carpet, sitting on the floor got cold very easily. For now, though, Dirk gets up. Dave stays where he is, and follows him with confused, somewhat sleepy eyes. When Dirk returns he’s holding Dave’s discarded jacket, and Dave smiles sheepishly when Dirk drapes it over his shoulders. The both of them return to their former positions in an almost mechanical fashion. Dave insistently pokes Dirk’s knee with the tip of his nose, and Dirk chuckles, threading his fingers back through Dave’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Dirk soothes, and Dave hums softly.  
“I’m so fucking tired.” Dave sighs.  
“I know. Rest up a bit bro, I’m not going anywhere.”  
“Hmm.” Dave exhales, and closes his eyes. Dirk isn’t far behind.

They fall asleep like this; Dave all but wrapped around Dirk’s leg, Dirk’s hand slid down onto Dave’s shoulder. It’s warm, peaceful, and perfect. By the time they both wake up, the tension Dave came home with had vanished completely. They rise from the couch, and Dirk hangs Dave’s jacket away. Dave reviews the scripts for tomorrows shooting, while Dirk improvises a late night dinner. Dirk glances over at his brother from the stove, studying the subtle furrow of his brow, the way he chews on the end of his pen.

“You’re going to ruin your teeth if you keep doing that.” Dirk comments, as he sets a plate of food next to the pile of papers Dave is hunched over.  
“I’ll just buy new ones.” Dave replies, his voice deceivingly serious. Dirk snorts.  
“We’ll leak to the press that you got your face touched up and watch how long it takes for them to figure it out.”  
“Does that mean I have to smile on camera because I don’t think I can do that I have a reputation to consider you know.”  
“Schrodinger’s teeth. I can already see the headlines.”  
“Smartass.”  
“Don’t stay up too late.”  
“Two more pages.”  
“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to eat.”  
“I won’t, I’m just waiting for it to get cold so I can shove all of it into my mouth at once.”  
“I bet that’s what you tell all the boys.”

It takes a second, and Dave tries to hide it, but the corners of his mouth curl up, and then he bursts into all-out laughter. Dirk grins, and they bump fists. Dave smiles up at him, wide and genuine, and Dirk’s heart swells at the sight.

About an hour later, Dirk returns to the kitchen table to find Dave asleep on top of the scripts he was checking. His plate is half-empty, and Dirk sighs in defeat.

Dave wakes up in the middle of the night with orange fleece covering his shoulders, and a cold cup of coffee at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Dirk returns from class to find Dave sitting cross-legged on the floor. He is surrounded by a sea of pictures, storyboards and handwritten drafts. His shades have slipped down the bridge of his nose a bit, and his red eyes are focused as he aggressively draws arrows, circles and exclamation marks on various pieces of paper. Dirk raises a single eyebrow, and closes the door behind him.

“Have you even slept?” Dirk asks, stepping out of his shoes. Dave doesn’t look up.  
“I need this done at six so the guys can send it over to production before the weekend.”

Dirk doesn’t reply, and it causes Dave to look over at him warily. Dirk slides out of his jacket, tosses it over a chair, and casually walks up to Dave. He moves to stand in front of him, effectively blocking Dave from doing his work. Dirk towers over him, Dave’s head barely reaches the top of his knees. Dave caps his marker slowly, and puts it down just in time- two of Dirk’s fingers settle under his chin and tilt his head, guiding him into making eye contact. Dirk’s gaze is calm, yet persistent.

“Let’s try that again,” Dirk starts, and Dave swallows. “have you slept, Dave?”

Dave looks up at him helplessly and Dirk recognizes the slight delirium in his eyes. He’s overworking himself again; he has been all week. Dirk was going to let it slide (you can’t do the job Dave does _without_ overworking yourself every now and then), but Dave has been sitting in that pool of papers since Dirk came home from school _yesterday_. Enough is enough. Dirk’s fingers slide up to cup Dave’s jaw, as he patiently waits for Dave to answer.

“No but-”  
“Dave.” Dirk warns. Dave lets out an exasperated sigh.  
“No, I didn’t.” He admits, and he averts his eyes. There’s a faint, approving smile on Dirk’s lips. He tucks a stray lock of hair back behind Dave’s ear.  
“Then you’ll sleep now.”

Dave opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it when he sees Dirk’s eyes; they had that certain shine again, and Dave has learned not to argue when they do. Dirk gently holds Dave by the back of his head, fingers buried in his hair, and pulls him up. Dave rises slowly, and sways on his feet- he would have tumbled over if it wasn’t for Dirk’s other hand steadying him by his shoulder. Dirk spots surprise in Dave’s expression, and wonders if he even realizes how exhausted he is. Probably not. Good thing Dave has him.

“Go to bed. I’ll come wake you up later.”  
“Dirk, I _really_ need to get this done.” Dave sounds apologetic. Dirk just shakes his head.  
“What you _need_ , is rest.” Dirk carefully removes Dave’s sunglasses, revealing dark rings under his eyes. “Look at you, how the fuck haven’t you passed out yet?”  
“It’s called having a job.” Dave mutters.   
“The only job you have, Dave,” Dirk starts, tucking Dave’s shades in the back pocket of his jeans. “Is to do as I say.”  
Dave huffs quietly, a flush rising to his cheeks. Dirk smiles much too sweetly.

“Now, do I need to repeat myself?” Dirk asks, and Dave’s shoulders sag.  
“No.” He grumbles.   
“What was that?”

Dave hesitates, and looks at Dirk as if looking for confirmation. He finds it in a subtle nod of Dirk’s head, and sighs before he repeats his answer.

“No, sir.”

Dirk smiles, satisfied, and lets go of Dave. “I’ll wake you up later.” Dave worriedly looks down at his work, and Dirk rolls his eyes. “I won’t touch your damn papers OK? Just get yourself to bed before I decide that it’s necessary to cuff you too.” It wouldn’t be the first time Dave has tried to keep working from his bed. He tends to go all sorts of insane when faced with a deadline. When Dave suddenly seems pensive instead of heading straight to bed, Dirk tilts his head in question.

“ _Is_ it necessary to cuff you?”

Dave looks to the floor, and shrugs. As if staged, his phone starts vibrating in his pocket right at that moment. Dirk frowns, and Dave smiles sheepishly. It’s enough of an answer.

“Bedroom.” Dirk orders, and Dave obeys reluctantly, dragging his feet along the carpet. Dirk stops by his own room before following Dave into his, and rummages around for a pair of wide, padded cuffs.

When Dirk enters Dave’s room, Dave is already sitting by the bed. He sees Dirk coming in, and shifts to his knees, hands resting in his lap. Dirk’s features soften at Dave’s compliance, and he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Phone.” Dirk says, and he holds his hand up. Dave retrieves his cellphone from his pocket, and places it into Dirk’s palm. Dirk puts it away, and pulls out the cuffs.  
“Hold up your hands.” Dirk’s voice is soft, but strong, and Dave brings his hands up without delay. Dirk is quiet as he secures the leather around Dave’s wrists; it required no thought, he’s done this countless times before. Dave shares Dirk’s silence, simply watching as Dirk fastens the straps.

Dirk slips his index finger between the padding of the cuff and Dave’s skin, making sure it’s not too tight.  
“Alright like that?” He asks, and Dave flexes his fingers, then nods.

Dirk gets up from the bed, and gestures for Dave to get in. He does so, no longer showing any sign of his earlier rebellion. Dirk helps him with the covers (as those are fairly hard to arrange when one has their wrists tied together), and presses a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“Sleep well bro.” He says, and Dave’s ‘thanks’ is barely audible.

Dirk is pretty sure Dave is already asleep by the time he exits the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

The first time Dirk asked Dave to hand in his phone, Dave guarded the pocket-sized piece of technology with his life. Dirk tried to assure Dave it was for his own good, that he just needed to let go of work for a bit, that he’d definitely get his phone back after a couple of hours- but Dave wouldn’t have any of it. Dave huffed and said that he might call Dirk ‘sir’ every now and then, but that this didn’t mean he’d just blindly follow every order Dirk decided to dish out. Dirk said he wouldn’t ask again. Dave said he was glad, because that meant he wouldn’t have to refuse again.

Dirk responded by shutting off the power.

Sitting at the kitchen table, illuminated by the light of the few candles Dirk had managed to dig up, Dave asked him how long he was going to keep this up. Dirk shrugged. Minutes later, Dave (reluctantly) placed his phone on the table; its battery had almost depleted completely. Dave stared at the small screen with a longing sadness in his eyes, but then, carefully, pushed the device towards Dirk. Dirk didn’t say a word when he took Dave’s lifeline from his hands.

Hell on earth had started for Dave ‘glued to his smartphone’ Strider. He was restless, tense as a bow-string, and Dirk just observed as Dave paced around the room, trying to find something, anything, to occupy himself with. Unfortunately, Dave was so aware of _not_ having his phone with him, that he couldn’t focus on anything else. Not even his turntables could distract him from his tragic fate. When Dave realized this, he got mad instead. He strung together the most vile of curses and threats, ones that no guardian should _ever_ expose their protégée to, but Dirk remained unfazed by Dave’s outbursts. He didn’t even blink when Dave unsheathed his sword, and if Dirk had been even the slightest bit concerned, he was doing a great job at hiding it.

Dave quickly tired himself out by being angry, and plopped down next to Dirk on the couch. He sat quietly for a few moments, fidgeted a little, and then told Dirk that he was sorry for losing his cool earlier. Dirk replied by saying that he wasn’t getting his phone back yet- Dave faked to be offended and followed his (awful) acting up by an attempt at bargaining. He offered Dirk everything he could think of, from his favorite cereal to a Shetland pony, but Dirk’s answer didn’t change. He wasn’t getting his phone back. Once he realized he couldn’t change Dirk’s mind with any number of hoofed animals, Dave got up from the couch and sat back down at the kitchen table, where he proceeded to mope for a good twenty minutes. He accused Dirk of doing this to pay him back for being such a horrible brother, for being gone all the time. Dirk didn’t respond.

Dave emerged from having his head buried in his arms, when Dirk placed a tall glass of apple juice in front of him. He looked at Dirk, who took a seat next to Dave and nodded at the drink. Dave reached out and curled his fingers around the chilled glass.

“You okay?” Dirk asked, as Dave downed half the glass’s contents in two large gulps.  
“Yeah.” Dave replied softly. “Yeah, I am.”

It was surprising for Dave to find that he was actually doing alright. Just moments ago he felt like dying, but now, he was alright. Good, even. He felt tired, but lighter somehow. He felt relaxed; more relaxed than he’d been in a long, long time. Dirk noticed the shift in Dave’s body language, and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his skin with the pad of his thumb. Dave took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“Did I really just throw a tantrum over a fucking phone.” Dave said, a touch of embarrassment to voice. Dirk chuckled warmly.  
“Yeah, you sort of did.”   
“Sorry.” Dave said, and Dirk knew it was genuine this time. He scooted closer to Dave’s chair, and wrapped his arms around him.   
“It’s fine bro. I know you didn’t mean any of it.”  
“I really didn’t.” Dave said, and he fisted the fabric of Dirk’s shirt as he returned the embrace. When Dirk asked if Dave wanted his phone back now, Dave muttered that he’d be alright for a bit longer.

Since that time, Dave hands over his phone whenever Dirk tells him to, without complaining (too much). Sometimes, when things get really hectic, he even asks Dirk to watch over it for a while. Dirk is always happy to comply. He never brings up the semi-breakdown Dave experienced when he first surrendered his cellphone, and Dave is grateful for it. He’s grateful for Dirk.

Dave’s reminiscing is interrupted by three sharp knocks on his bedroom door.  
“Yeah?” Dave says, sliding off his headphones, and when the door opens, Dirk appears in the doorframe. He holds up Dave’s phone, before tossing it at him with a calculated throw. Dave catches it single-handedly, and they share a smile.

“Thanks.” Dave says, as he turns the device back on.  
“Don’t overdo it.” Dirk replies, and Dave nods absently- he’s already texting someone. Dirk rolls his eyes, and leaves Dave to it, closing the door behind him. 


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Dirk doesn’t often come along to Dave’s work-related events. He’s just not a people person, not to mention the fact that he’s got school to think of. Dave is fine on his own, much to the amazement of the press. He shows up solo at conferences, movie premières- even charity dances, when the cameras always keep rolling expectantly after Dave exits the limo, waiting for someone else to follow. The few interviewers daring enough to inquire after the absence of his ‘date’, are met with flirty retorts that leave them blushing fiercely (and reinforce Dave’s status of ‘Most Desired Bachelor in the Film Industry’). The more experienced reporters have learned to avoid these kind of questions, but every now and again a rookie would take a deep breath, and try to get a tabloid headline.

“Mister Strider, where is your date tonight?”

Dave turns on one heel to face the young, hopeful guy sticking a microphone under his nose. He pushes his shades up with two fingers, and slides his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Why, you wanna dance?”

Dave raises an amused eyebrow as he watches the reporter scurry off. It never gets old. Moments after, a waitress stops by his side. She single-handedly holds up a large tray filled with crystal wine-tasting glasses. She keeps her eyes lowered as she speaks up.

“Cider, sir?” Dave glances at the tray of sparkling drinks, and frowns regrettably.  
“Ask me again in two minutes.” He answers, and the lady nods as if he hadn’t just asked a ridiculous question. She offers a slight bow of her head before continuing her rounds.

Dave fishes his phone from the breast pocket of his jacket.

TG: can i have cider

Dirk’s response is almost immediate.

TT: No.

Dave pulls a face at his phone- then quickly looks around to make sure no one saw him do it.

TG: please  
TG: that tray looks really heavy i just want to help ease the burden  
TT: Why don’t you take the job yourself then?  
TG: can i have cider if i do  
TT: No.  
TG: damn  
TT: Now put your phone away, you’re at a social event.  
TG: yes sir

Dave tucks his phone back inside his pocket, and when the same lady returns, he shakes his head at her in a sad manner. She nods politely, and moves on. Dave draws out a sigh. He doesn’t _have_ to obey. He never has to; Dave’s an adult, he can take that entire tray if he wants it, and oh boy, does he want it.

The thing is, there’s something Dave wants more.

Dave wants to see that special smile that curls around Dirk’s lips when he’s pleased with him. He wants to hear his words of praise, and feel like he’s earned them. He wants to feel accomplished. So he doesn’t take the cider, and no charity dance has ever seen a man drink mineral water as proudly as Dave did that night.

Back at home, Dirk smiles at his phone when he sees Dave sign off. There’s little to no pleasure in denying Dave what he wants, but there is pride in knowing that he’ll listen. There’s satisfaction, a sense of completeness, knowing that Dave will keep Dirk in his thoughts throughout the event. It’s through these small, invisible directions Dirk sends Dave off with, that Dirk can be present at every single one of Dave’s functions, without having to suit up and spend an evening away from home.

When Dave returns to the apartment that night, Dirk is there. Dave takes off his shoes and shades before he approaches him.

“How was it?” Dirk asks when Dave walks up, patting the space next to him on the couch. Dave sits down, and Dirk gestures for his legs. Dave carefully lifts them up and rests them in Dirk’s lap.  
“Cool. I got to scare off a reporter.” Dave sounds childishly pleased, and Dirk grins as he rolls Dave’s left pant leg up a little. Loosely fastened around Dave’s ankle sits a narrow, metal chain. The links are warm from having touched his skin all night.

“And the cider?”  
“Didn’t touch it.”  
“Awesome.”

Dave hums, eyes sparkling. He watches Dirk unlock the tiny padlock holding the links together, and sighs when the metal slides off. Dirk gently rubs Dave’s ankle; even though the chain was nowhere near tight enough to have obstructed Dave’s blood flow, Dirk treats him as if it had. He always does. Dave nearly giggles when Dirk leans forward to press a kiss against his now-bare skin. He tugs the pant leg back down, and guides Dave’s legs back to the floor.

They sit side by side on the couch. Dave look at Dirk in question, but Dirk pretends not to notice. Dave lowers his eyes as he’s reminded that even good behavior won’t excuse him from having to use his words when he wants something. He shuffles his feet against the carpet.

“May I sit closer to you.” He asks softly, and Dave is certain that in any other situation Dirk would have told him to repeat the question. Now, however, Dirk simply holds his arm out to Dave, and motions for him to come over with a nod of his head. Dave smiles widely, and moves so he’s resting his head in Dirk’s lap. Dirk leisurely strokes through Dave’s hair.

“You did well today.”

Dirk’s voice sounds calm and affectionate; it makes Dave feel warm inside. He takes a deep breath, and his eyes slide shut.

“Thank you, sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

Dave is sitting at the kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand. His forehead rests uncomfortably against the hard surface of the table, and the fingers of his free hand are tapping to a silent beat. Every now and then he sighs, deeply and dramatically, as if he’s taking the last few breaths of his life.

Dirk is graduating next week. Well, technically already graduated, but the ceremony will be held next week. Earlier today, Dirk came home with a handful of gaudy invitations, designed with clip art and comic sans in bold (Dave had never been so proud of Dirk before). Initially, Dirk told Dave not to come to the ceremony;  Dirk wasn't the only kid with 'famous' relatives, and the entire place would be nothing short of a paparazzi cluster fuck.

Dave wouldn't have any of it though- in a rare act of defiance (his knees nearly shaking with nerves), he flat out told Dirk that he was going to be there when his bro graduates, period. Dirk shook his head, but smiled, and said he'd arrange for backdoor entry.

Haha, backdoor entry.

Dave quietly snickers to himself, his fingers still curled around the tinted bottle. His grin fades quickly though, as the harsh reality returns to the forefront of his thoughts. Dirk is graduating.

Dave remembers holding a bundle of baby Strider safely in his arms. He remembers rapping through Dirk's restless nights. The look of wonder on Dirk's face, the first time they watched a SBaHJ movie together.  He remembers when their roles reversed, and Dirk started taking care of Dave instead. He remembers feeling nothing but warmth and happiness in his presence.

Dirk's graduating. He might move out. Live in a dorm, get absorbed in college life. Any other kid would, and who could blame them?

Dave is terrified. Just the thought of being alone makes him feel nauseous. However, the thought of somehow taking away from Dirk's life experience (for nothing but his own benefit), sickens Dave way more. Their unusual relationship, if you can even call it that, is already everything but normal, and though Dirk swears he's happy, sometimes Dave can't fight the pangs of guilt assaulting him for being a burden to Dirk. At times like these, when Dave treads into the dark depths of his mind, he wonders how much easier life would have been if he'd never allowed their special dynamic to form.

Yet, imagining life without the feeling of Dirk gently petting Dave's hair while he kneels at Dirk's feet, saddens Dave to no end. He feels the corners of his eyes sting, and shakes his head, attempting to get the depression out. He glances at the clock, though he already knows what time it is. He always knows what time it is.

"It's four in the morning Dave, why are you still up?" Dirk appears in the living room, his voice only slightly affected by sleep. Dave can hardly believe it, but Dirk seems to function best on 3 hours of sleep a night. He supposes some things never change, and somehow, in its own way, that knowledge is comforting. 

"Can't sleep." Dave doesn't look up from the table. He can hear Dirk step towards him.  
"Doesn't look like you're trying." He sounds calm, he always sounds calm, and Dave hears Dirk pull up a chair as he sits down next to him. Dave glances up a little to watch Dirk gently extract the bottle of wine from his grip- he doesn't try to fight it.

"You're old." Dave tells Dirk, and he sighs into his folded arms, still leaning forward on the table. Dirk snorts.  
"Look who's talking. I spotted that jar of anti-aging cream you were trying to hide in the back of the bathroom cupboard." Dave pulls a face, and Dirk chuckles. He reaches out and gently pats Dave's back. "It's OK, wrinkles give you character."  
Now it's Dave's turn to snort. They share a short silence, before Dave carefully speaks up again.

"May I speak freely?"  
"You may, but only if you sit up straight. It's like you're trying to talk with your fist stuck in your mouth."

Dave huffs, but straightens anyway. Dirk smiles in approval, and nods as a sign that Dave can go ahead. Dave wastes no time.

“You're graduating, and you're going to go to college, and dorms and college go together like doritos and dip and if you're getting the dip that means you gotta have doritos too right because you don’t just eat dip straight out of the jar that’s weird but then you won't need my doritos anymore and you'll start eating that gross blue flavor only and I'll be stuck with all these orange doritos and-"  
"Not /that/ freely, Dave."  
"Sorry." Dave mutters. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want you to leave." Before Dirk can respond, Dave quickly adds: "But I also don't want to hold you back from doing... whatever it is that you young people do these days."

Dirk's smile is kind, and when he wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, Dave feels like he might cry.   
"We've talked about this." Although this line usually sounds reprimanding coming from Dirk, now it sounds soothing, and Dave takes a deep breath. "I'm not leaving, and you're not holding me back from anything."  
"But-"  
"Bro, look." Dirk interrupts. "I know what's out there, and I know that I want to be here instead. That's really all there is to it." Dave slumps a little in his chair. Dirk leans in and presses a chaste kiss against Dave's temple.  "I'm not going to abandon you."

Dave tries to smile, and nods his head. Dirk rubs tiny circles into Dave's shoulder blade as he gets up.

"Get some sleep.” Dirk says. “We're going out to get a gown and cap tomorrow. I need you at your best, I want to maximize the irony." Dave nods again, and drags himself out of his chair. Dirk tilts his head and studies him for a moment.

"Want to sleep with me tonight?" Dirk says, just as Dave is about to enter his bedroom. Dave doesn't need time to think about his answer.  
"Yeah."  
"Go grab your pillow then."

Dirk lets Dave hold his hand, and Dave falls asleep clutching it to his heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

After seeing Rose at Dirk’s graduation ceremony (her daughter, Roxy, graduated in the same class as Dirk), they agreed to hang out and catch up as soon as they found some time. For Dave, that turned out to be two days later, when he decided to drop by Rose’s place after a particularly shitty work shift.

The two of them ended up talking for hours on end, and it had quickly gotten way later in the night (or morning, by now) than either of them had planned.

“Are you absolutely certain you’d rather not spend the night? It is not quite a five-star hotel, but I am sure my guest room will meet all your needs.” Rose seems somewhat concerned as she hands Dave his coat. Dave bats his hand at her, and shakes his head.

“Nah, I really gotta get home. Dirk’s gonna get worried if I don’t.” With all the time Dave has to spend in hotels, he’d rather sleep at home whenever he’s able. Besides, Dave enjoys driving at night; the roads are quiet and he feels less self-conscious about blaring along to ABBA songs. Rose nods, but gives it one more shot.  
“Have you told him you’re here? I am sure he would understand.”

Dave tenses up so hard that he freezes on the spot. His hands go sweaty and he feels his heartbeat jump in sudden fear. Rose notices and frowns as she studies his face, but she doesn’t need her Master’s degree in Psychology to have an idea of what is going through Dave’s mind right now. Panic.

“I see.” Rose sighs, and she reaches out to button up Dave’s jacket for him, while he stands nailed to the ground. He doesn’t even blink, though his shades make it hard to tell. “In that case, you’d indeed best get going.”

When Dave doesn’t move, Rose taps his shoulder- he snaps out of it and nods hastily. He almost stumbles over his own shoes on the way out, and Rose sees him off with a ‘Drive safely.’ and a smile that says she’d somehow been expecting this.

Dave all but throws his phone in the hands-free station on his dashboard, and cringes as he reads the number of calls and messages he missed. He has to bite the inside of his cheeks until it hurts to prevent himself from speeding on the way home, and ABBA never makes it into the CD player.

Rose doesn’t know. Dave assumes she thinks his terror is the same as that of a father realizing he forgot to pick his child up from school. However, Dirk is anything but a kid waiting for the familiar engine sound of Dave’s car. Dave considers calling him on the way back, but decides against it, nerves getting the better of him. When he pulls into the driveway, he’s caught between making a sprint for the door, or just stay hidden in his car. He can’t hide forever though, and it is with that acknowledgment that Dave takes a deep breath, gets out, and walks up to the front door.

He slides his key in the lock as quietly as he can. Maybe Dirk was asleep? Yeah, right. Dave carefully pushes the door open, and moves through the house as if he’s walking on a minefield. He gets about halfway to his bedroom when he hears a stern, monotonous voice call out to him.

“Good morning Dave.”

Dave flinches, and drops his heels; tiptoeing won’t do him any good now. He turns his head to face Dirk, who stands by the door of his room. His arms are crossed, and he’s leaning against the doorframe, holding himself with a calm that makes Dave nervous. Dave swallows, and throws him a small wave.

“Sup.” Dirk raises an eyebrow at Dave’s greeting, and Dave instantly regrets having said anything.  
  
“I’ll tell you what’s up,” Dirk starts, and Dave can almost taste the disapproval slipping into his tone. “It’s nearly five in the morning. I’ve been calling you since seven.” Dirk takes a moment to look Dave up and down, slowly, and Dave shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?”

Dave opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. He averts his eyes.  
“I hung out at Rose’s.”  
Dirk nods as if he knew already, and for a moment Dave wonders if he did. It wouldn’t surprise him; after all, this was Dirk.  
“You didn’t tell me you were there, nor did you answer my calls.” He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds disappointed, and it makes Dave want to disappear where he stands. Dave looks at his feet, and shakes his head.  
“Work was crap so I left my phone in my coat and I didn’t hear it go off and-”  
“Dave.”  
  
Dave clears his throat, and raises his head a bit to face Dirk. He knows he’s not supposed to make excuses, or defend himself, even _if_ his reasons are perfectly acceptable (they aren’t, in this case, but still). He did something wrong, so all he has to do now is:  
“I’m sorry.” Dirk looks at him, waiting, and Dave continues. “I’m sorry for not answering your calls, and for staying out this late without telli-” Dirk frowns, and Dave corrects himself. “-asking.”

Dirk stays quiet for a bit, and Dave tries his hardest not to look away. Then, he uncrosses his arms, and steps aside, motioning for Dave to get into his room. “Tower,” He says, and Dave nods. “And take your shirt off.” Dave nods again, and takes his shoes off before he enters Dirk’s room. He quickly strips off his shirt, and brings himself to his knees, back straight, thighs closed, hands resting palms-down in his lap. He lowers his eyes, and waits.

Dirk watches him from the doorframe, and once Dave is settled, he rummages around in his closet for a bit. When he walks up to Dave, he pulls his chair up behind him and sits down. He brings his hands in front of Dave, and shows him the unloaded riding crop he retrieved from the closet. Dave breathes a sigh of both surrender and relief (it could have been much worse), but stays perfectly still. Dirk withdraws, and gently runs the head, a 3-inch loop of leather, along Dave’s shoulder blades. Dave takes another deep breath, and tries to relax while keeping his back straight.

“Do you understand why you have to be punished?” Dirk asks calmly.  
“Yes, sir.” Dave’s voice is steady, as it should be.

Dave has trouble letting things go. Even if Dirk would have forgiven him on the spot, Dave would’ve probably continued to feel bad about his disobedience for at least a week. Countless apologies isn’t what Dirk wants; Dave needs to accept the consequences of his actions, and once he has, the slate’s wiped clean again.  That’s why punishment is _needed_ ; it allows Dave to learn from his mistakes, and then move on without guilt. Sometimes a verbal reprimand is enough. This time, it’s not.

Dirk lashes out, and the leather bites at the flat of Dave’s shoulder blade, first left, then right. Dave squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his jaw, as the sting sinks into his skin. Dirk taps lightly before he strikes, and when the crop comes down again it hits the exact same spot it did before. Tap, strike. Tap, strike. Dave’s exhales shudder and his fingers stutter against his thighs, resisting the urge to form fists. He can feel his skin reddening, bright pink splashes blooming under the repeated force. With every repeated hit, the leather feels sharper; Dave lowers his head, and wills the pain away.

Dave tenses up completely in the effort of repression, and Dirk sees.   
“Breathe, Dave.” He says after the next tap, and Dave jerks when he strikes. “Don’t push the pain away.” _Tap_. “Take it in, and breathe it out.” _Strike_. Dave grips at the fabric of his pants until his knuckles go white.   
  
Dirk sighs, then strikes without a warning touch, once, twice, harder than before. The leather licks at Dave’s raw skin, hot, razor-edged, merciless- Dave startles and gasps loudly, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Dirk pauses, and watches closely as Dave’s body eases back into a steady rise and fall.  
“Good.” Dirk says, and this time he taps again before he brings the crop down. “Just a bit more now.” Dave lets out a weak sound in reply, nothing in his mind but a thousand continuous needle pricks, and flames lapping up the insides of his bones.

When Dave feels Dirk’s fingertips on his skin, he chokes out a sob. Dirk soothes him, strokes gently down Dave’s spine, rubs at the base of Dave’s skull. Dave unwinds under the soft touches of Dirk’s hands, head lolling forward, shoulders slumping. Dirk doesn’t correct his posture, he just wraps his arms around Dave, and hugs him close.

“You did great.” Dirk says, and he presses a kiss against Dave’s temple. Dave doesn’t trust his voice to stay even, so he just leans back into Dirk instead.

They sit like that for a while, until Dirk gently detaches himself from Dave, and carefully supports him back up on his feet. Dave yawns, deeply relaxed, and very, very tired. Dirk hands him his shirt back, and smiles when Dave sleepily puts it on with the label up front. Then he hands Dave the crop, and Dave nods, before putting it back away in the closet. He returns to Dirk and brings a hand up to hide another yawn. Dirk reaches out to cup the side of Dave’s face, and gently traces his cheekbone with his thumb.

“Bedtime.” He says.

Dirk walks with Dave to Dave’s bedroom, he helps him change and get into bed. Dave mumbles a soft ‘thank you’, and falls asleep almost instantly after Dirk guides his head to the pillow. Dirk tucks him in, an affectionate grin stuck on his face. He switches off the alarm on the nightstand, before quietly leaving Dave’s room, and doesn’t yawn until he’s certain Dave can’t hear it.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

The heat is near unbearable.

Dave manages, locked inside his bedroom slash office, blinds drawn shut and the fan on three. Every time his fringe slides down his forehead he runs a hand through his hair, and for a brief moment he considers wearing one of those cord headbands; then he decides Dirk would never let him live that down. Eventually, he compromises by pushing his shades up into his hair, and he squints at the monitor of his computer as his eyes adjust to the brightness of the screen.

A tab flashes on the side, and Dave subconsciously straightens his shoulders when he opens the chat Dirk started.

TT: How long have you been working ?

Dave doesn’t have to think.

TG: four hours and twelve minutes  
TG: maybe thirteen  
TG: definitely thirteen now  
TT: Take a break.  
TG: nah im good i think im actually onto something here  
TG: inspiration is nothing short of a miracle i cant ignore it  
TG: imagine the dude who got his legs healed up by the jman just going nope i aint walking  
TG: not cool  
TT: It wasn’t a question, Dave.

Behind his computer, Dave lets out a resigned sigh; the kind that usually gets him a “Don’t look at me like that.” from Dirk, if he sees it. Dirk isn’t in his room though, so Dave allows himself to pout to his heart’s content. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. He’s old enough to make his own decisions.

Thing is that he’s decided to let Dirk make those decisions _for_ him.

TT: Take twenty.  
TG: dude  
TG: twenty is way too long do you even know how long twenty minutes is  
TG: im gonna open negotiations at five and we can settle on ten or something ok  
TG: ill even get some more water hows that  
TT: You’d think that by now, you’d know better than this.  
TT: Make that thirty. And take a shower.  
TG: aw man come on :(  
TT: A cold one.

Dave resists the overwhelming urge to bang his head against the keyboard, and replies with a reluctant ‘yes sir’ instead. He closes out of his browser (he’s tried leaving it open to sneak in some work before, let’s just say that it wasn’t too effective), and drags himself up from his chair. When he steps out of his room, Dirk is there, holding a large white towel. An amused smile appears on his face when he looks at Dave, and Dave blinks before scrambling to get his shades back down from his hair. This only makes Dirk’s smile wider, and Dave huffs as he takes the towel from his protégée’s hands. He hears Dirk chuckle as he steps into the bathroom.

Dave has often justified their ‘situation’, with the knowledge that he can opt out of it at any moment. While this is true, it doesn’t make their dynamic a switch he can flip on or off whenever he feels like it. At first, when both of them were still carefully feeling their way around the terms and conditions of their new relationship, Dirk frequently reminded Dave that his safeword –Dirk prefers to call it ‘override’– isn’t a get out of jail free card, and shouldn’t be used as a way to get out of orders Dave doesn’t really feel like following. If it was, there wouldn’t be much reason for them to be in an agreement as theirs to begin with.

The task of deciding whether or not it’s ok for Dave to use his safeword, however, isn’t up to Dirk. That responsibility lies with Dave, and with time, Dave has learned to both respect Dirk’s authority, as well as his own ability to override it. Dave trusts Dirk to keep his best interests in mind. Dirk trusts Dave, not to obey, but to communicate. Obedience is just a segment of this communication. So is protest.

He shivers before even stepping into the shower. However, the cold water feels surprisingly good on Dave’s skin, and Dave takes a moment to enjoy a break from the suffocating heat outside (being used to something doesn’t necessarily make it comfortable). As the chill runs through his hair and down his body, Dave realizes that while the extended break may have been a reprimand, the order to shower wasn’t. Dave doesn’t hurry, and when he emerges from the shower, he feels clean and refreshed.

Dirk is on the couch, a game cube controller in his hand. Dave saunters over, the damp towel draped across his shoulders, and glances at the TV screen.

“Majora’s Mask? Again?”  
“I’ve met with a terrible fate.”

Dave snorts, and sits down next to Dirk. He looks at Dirk, who apparently had no qualms with clipping his hair away from his face (that, or the heat simply bested his hatred for bobby pins). His skin is flushed, his thumbs lazily navigate the buttons on the controller. Dave feels a smile pulling at his lips, and he lets it. When Dirk makes eye contact, it catches Dave off guard, and he quickly turns to face the screen. In his peripheral vision, Dave sees Dirk smile as well. A warm, childlike joy bubbles up inside of him, and Dave relaxes back into the futon with a content sigh.

“Not going to go back to work then?” Dirk questions, and Dave hears amusement with a hint of smug.  
“Another thirty won’t hurt.” Technically, it had already been thirty-seven minutes (he really did take his time in the shower), but Dave can’t be bothered to care right now. Dirk simply hums.

Three hours later, Dave yells at the screen as Dirk fights his way through the final boss battle, and when he wins they high-five so hard his hands tingles. 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

**8.**

Dirk returns from picking up groceries, wearing the meanest scowl Dave has seen on him in a while. Dave watches warily from his place at the dinner table while Dirk puts away two cartons of apple juice and a box of cereal- the bottle of orange soda never makes it into the fridge, and Dirk twists it open with such ferocity that Dave nearly flinches. He puts down the tabloid he was reading (inspecting, really, reporters these days just can’t be trusted to pick the right pictures), and clears his throat before carefully speaking up.

“Hey so-”  
“Not now.”

Dave instantly closes his mouth. One of the few things more intimidating than Dirk being pissed off, is actually talking to Dirk when he’s pissed off. Instead, Dave observes quietly from behind his magazine as Dirk rummages around some kitchen drawers. When Dirk stomps off to his room, Dave tilts his head in thought.

It’s cooled down a bit, and the sky is cloudy. Dave stands on the edge of the roof, gazing up as he waits for Dirk. He frowns when he identifies a smuppet shape in one of the clouds, and that’s when Dirk’s voice rings through the crisp air.

“What are you looking at.”

Dave meets Dirk’s burning eyes, and for a moment he worries that his invitation had been ill received, but then he sees Dirk’s katana, and he knows his protégée is ready for a strife.

“Thanks for coming up, kid.” Dave says, and he turns to face his brother. Dirk scoffs, and drops into a fighting stance.  
“I’d never turn down a chance to school you, old man.”  
Dave just grins, and adjusts his grip on his sword.

They stare each other down for an undefined amount of time. Then, synchronized as if they planned it, there is nothing but the sound of gravel shifting beneath their feet, and blades clashing between their bodies.

Dirk’s moves are sharp as he cuts through the air, and there is a wildness in his swings Dave feels every time their weapons connect. His eyes are dark, distracted, his usual mechanical style has a ragged edge. Dave dances around him, footwork loose and full of rhythm. Whenever they lock eyes, there are smiles and fire.

Dirk’s dominance doesn’t extend to the roof. Here, they are each their own; a win’s a win, a wound’s a wound, and blood is blood. While each of them is still free to decline a challenge, they can issue them freely, whenever they want. They strife to stay in shape, to decide what movie they’ll watch later, or out of sheer boredom. Sometimes Dirk wants to pit a new robot against Dave, sometimes Dave wants to act out the choreography of a fight he’s writing.

Sometimes a strife is the only way for Dave to scrape the feelings off of Dirk’s bones, to drag them out from where he keeps it all pent up.

And Dave does, almost hearing the anger free itself every time Dirk lashes out at him. It makes him sloppier, but only slightly so, and Dave quickly finds himself on the defensive end of their exchange. Despite functioning as a moving deflector, Dave holds himself up well, and Dirk is presented with a brick wall to vent at, rather than an opponent to beat.

At first, it only fuels Dirk’s frustration, leading to fine-grained strikes designed to hurt, but Dave stays steady, and Dirk’s attacks slowly mellow out into something more flexible.

Their chests heave with heavy breaths, their skin shows a sheen of sweat. Dirk’s shoulders hang lower, and his chin tips up with a hint of relief. When Dave proposes a tie, Dirk accepts it with a shrug, and they touch fists. Dirk’s arm finds its way around Dave’s shoulder as they head back to the stairs.

They take turns in the shower, and when Dirk emerges with a deep, content sigh on his lips, Dave decides it’s the right time to ask if they can order pizza.

Later that evening, Dirk calls Dave to the futon, and reaches out to hold his hand. For a while they sit in silence, just enjoying the other’s presence, and when Dirk speaks up his voice sounds too warm to be considered a disturbance of the peace.

“Thank you for earlier, Dave. I needed that.” Dirk squeezes his hand gently, and Dave smiles.  
“Hey sometimes I gotta take care of you too, right.”   
Dirk smiles back and shakes his head. He brings Dave’s hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to his pulse.  
“And no one does it better.”  
“Wow, I didn’t know you were capable of such sappiness.” Dave grins, but his blush betrays him. Dirk just chuckles.  
“Don’t get used to it.”  
“No promises.”  
When Dave extends his arm, Dirk leans in for an embrace.

The part Dave plays in their dynamic may be different, but that doesn’t make it any less important. Dominance and submission do not, do never, equal giving and receiving. Any kind of relationship between two people requires the same amount of effort from both participants, regardless of their individual roles. Of all the things socially labeled as messed up in what Dirk and Dave have, at least they got that part right.

They indulge in cuddling until Dave gets thirsty. After a short back and forth, they agree that whoever yawns first, will have to get the other soda. Dave loses before he can finish telling Dirk he’d rather have apple juice.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

Dave comes home from New Zealand to an empty house, and figures Dirk must be running some kind of errand. It makes sense, since Dave got back earlier than planned; it’s incredible what smooth tailwinds can do for a flight (and a captain’s mood).

Dave takes advantage of his solitude with a childlike sense of glee. He puts on his own music, takes a ridiculously long shower, and practices his beat boxing while eating an entire bag of doritos (turns out that Dirk was right; those two activities don’t go together at all). When Dirk returns, he finds Dave napping on the couch with a towel on his head. He’s wearing long black pajama pants, and the ‘nr. 1 Dad’ socks Dirk once gave him as an ironic gift for valentine’s day. Dave insists they are the most comfortable socks he has, and Dirk pretends to believe him.

Dirk tugs the towel down a bit to make sure Dave won’t choke, but doesn’t wake him up just yet. He busies himself around the house a bit while Dave sleeps, messes around on his laptop and begins to prepare a quick and easy dinner. When the smell of cooked food wakes Dave from his slumber, the first thing he does is reach for his neck with a pained expression. Dirk catches Dave’s groan, and smiles.

“And that’s why I don’t let you sleep on the couch.”  
Dave pulls a face; Dirk replies with a nod in direction of Dave’s suitcase, still standing by the door.  
“Go put your shit away while I plate this.”  
Much to Dirk’s surprise, Dave doesn’t grumble as he gets up to carry out the order. He sneaks a glance at the stove when he passes the kitchen.  
“Those doritos didn’t ruin your appetite, then?” Dirk asks.  
Dave acts confused. “What doritos.”  
“Next time you may not want to stuff the empty bag in the sink.”  
Now, Dave does grumble. “I figured the skateboard would hide it.”  
Dirk grins. “I see all.”

The evening passes quietly. Neither of them say much, weighed down by the knowledge that Dave has to leave again tomorrow morning. When Dave says he’s done repacking, Dirk checks to make sure he didn’t forget anything especially important. Later, Dave takes his place on a pillow at Dirk’s feet, and reviews his schedule for the next few days. Dirk has one hand in Dave’s hair, and the other on the TV remote as he aimlessly flips through channels.

Dave tries to stall the time he takes, but Dirk catches on when he sees Dave studying the back of his boarding pass for a third time. He sends Dave off to bed, and heads for his room. When Dave knocks on his door thirty minutes later, and asks if he can sleep in Dirk’s bed, Dirk regrets not having offered this from the start. Dave dozes off to the sounds of Dirk tinkering, and barely registers Dirk slipping into bed with him after a few hours passed.

When Dave wakes up, Dirk is already waiting for him in the kitchen. He’s doing a crossword in the newspaper with a bored expression on his face, but his eyes light up when he sees Dave enter the room.

“Morning sunshine.” He teases, and Dave scowls.  
“Don’t speak to me.”  
“Coffee’s on the counter.”  
“I love you.”

Once his coffee is done, Dave notices an unfamiliar object next to his mug. It looks like a wristwatch without the watch, a wide strap of leather that closes with two metal links. Dave glances up at Dirk in question, and Dirk motions for him to hold out his hand.

Dave watches as Dirk carefully pushes up the cuff of Dave’s shirt. He fastens the strap around Dave’s wrist, checks the tightness, and gives a pleased nod before tugging the cuff back down. Dave stares at the bracelet-like object around his arm, as if he can still see it through the fabric of his shirt. Dirk’s gentle voice cuts through Dave’s confusion.

“I wanted you to have something to remind me by, but I figured a collar would be a bit too… flashy.”  
Dave looks back up and makes eye contact with Dirk, who smiles at him, and Dave smiles in return. Dave touches the bracelet, and turns his wrist. It sits comfortably, feels pleasant against his skin, and Dave thinks that yes, he can definitely get used to this.

They synchronize the times on their phones before Dave leaves, and with a hug and a wish for safe travels, Dirk is left alone again. A heavy sigh escapes Dirk as soon as Dave’s car is out of sight, and he decides to go back to bed.


	10. Chapter 9.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of chapter 9

**9.5**

Dirk was already a bit confused to find Dave calling him at this hour, but when he picks up, Dave’s voice just adds to the confusion.

“Dirk?” He sounds upset.  
“Dave, what’s wrong?”  
“Uh. I may or may not have seriously messed up. Probably.”  
Dirk frowns. “Messed up? How?”

The other end stays quiet for a while, but just as Dirk is about to repeat his question, Dave speaks up.

“Turn on the TV.”

Dirk gets what Dave wants him to see, and googles Dave’s name instead. Upon hitting enter, he is instantly greeted by at least twenty links, their headlines all similar. “Strider’s secret: Director Dave is NOT single!” Dirk tilts his head at the screen as he scrolls through the links, each of them more extravagant than the other. One even claims Dave is engaged.

“Oh.” Dirk says, and Dave sighs dejectedly. “What happened?”  
“Agent pitched one of those obnoxious ‘celebrity looking for a partner’ kind of reality shows, and I wasn’t thinking and turned her down by saying I was already taken. She must’ve figured the payoff for leaking would be big enough to make up for losing my patronage.”

“Oh.” Dirk replied again, still browsing through the newly typed up articles. “Well, it looks like she was right. What now?”  
Dave makes a sound in between a groan and a whine, and Dirk can almost feel the jaw-ache Dave must have from clenching his teeth in worry.  
“I don’t know. That’s why I called, I just don’t know. Times like these I regret being my own damn publicist.”  
“Okay, so first off you need to calm down. Where are you now?”  
“About to board, I think she waited so I wouldn’t be able to react for a while. Had to bribe the captain to get a few minutes to call you, thank fuck he’s a fan.”

Dirk takes a deep breath, and thinks for a moment.

“I think I have an idea. Just take it easy, alright? We got this.”  
Dave nods, but then realizes Dirk can’t see him. “Yeah. Ok. Okay, yeah.”  
“Keep your work phone off once you get off the plane. I’ll come pick you up with the other car, text me when you know which exit you’re taking.”  
“Yes, s-” Dave coughs. “Sure.”

It’s pouring when Dirk pulls up next to Dave, and Dave hurriedly jumps down the rail of the fire escape, before throwing his luggage into the car. He then slides into the seat with a breath of relief, but Dirk finds plenty of worry when he studies Dave’s face.

“Welcome back.” Dirk says. Dave just hums absently; the sound is almost drowned out by the rain clattering on the roof of the car.

“Dave, seatbelt.”  
“Oh, right.” Dave scrambles to secure the seatbelt, and when he looks up again Dirk presents him with his digital tablet.  
“See if you can work with this.”  
Dave nods, a bit taken aback, and takes the device from Dirk’s hands.

Dave reads through the files Dirk prepared on the way back, flips through the websites and screenshots.

“I didn’t know you read my drafts.” Dave mutters. Dirk keeps his eyes on the road.  
“I don’t. Not until today.” He makes a sharp turn, and Dave sways in his seat a little. “So, what do you think?”

Dave looks down at the tablet one more time before he answers.  
“I think you may have just saved my career. Are you sure Roxy will help?”  
“We’ll both owe her favors of a magnitude we’d rather not owe to anyone, but yeah, she’ll help. Had her on the phone earlier. Won’t be a problem, we just need your OK.”

“Okay. Let’s do this.”  
“Alright,” Dirk replies. He briefly makes eye contact with Dave, and smiles. Dave relaxes visibly. “Let’s make it happen.”


	11. Chapter 10

**10.**

Dave sits at the dinner table, hugging a mug of apple juice to his chest. The futon has been turned into some sort of digital fort at the hands of Roxy Lalonde, who’s been there since early in the morning, bringing her laptop and one of her brightest smiles. There are two monitors set up on the coffee table, and Dirk’s laptop is hooked up as well. Her manicured fingers have been tapping away at several keyboards for about three hours now. Dirk stands behind the sofa, eyeing her progress with a worried expression.

“Keep in mind that you-”  
“Got it.”  
“You’ll have to-”  
“Lol yes.”  
“Don’t you think it’s better if-”

Roxy cuts Dirk off with a raised hand, and Dirk blinks at her polka-dotted nails.

“Dirk, seriously. I know what I’m doing.” She sounds mildly entertained, and Dirk hangs his head a little. From the kitchen, Dave snorts, and Dirk turns around to glare at him. Roxy reaches back and pets Dirk’s head.

“Just let RoLal work her majicks okay? I’ve got this.”

Dirk shoots Roxy a desperate look, but when she narrows her eyes at him he sighs, nods, and goes to join Dave at the table. Dave shows him a sympathetic smile and sets down a glass of orange soda, which Dirk gratefully accepts. He studies Dave’s wrist, to find that he’s wearing the bracelet Dirk gave him. Dave notices Dirk where Dirk’s gaze is directed, and quickly pulls the sleeve of his pullover down. His cheeks tint when Dirk looks up at him, and he averts his eyes. Dirk smiles.

Another three hours pass, and Roxy is eating pizza with one hand, while repeatedly pressing enter with the other. Dirk still flutters around her as she works, but he keeps his mouth shut. Dave has gone to bed for a nap, his jetlag catching up with him.

“So why is this such a big deal anyway?” Roxy asks through a mouthful of food. Dirk frowns.  
“What?”  
Roxy stuffs the final bite of pizza into her mouth.   
“I mean, so what if they think your dad-”  
“Bro. He’s my bro.”  
“Whatever, so what if they think he’s getting it on? What’s the problem?”

Dirk doesn’t know what to say. Roxy’s already back to clicking through several windows, and Dirk watches her hands as he tries to think of an acceptable answer. He can’t exactly tell her what the actual situation is, and she does have a point. If anything, this mess-up only brings additional publicity. It’s not a scandal, it’s not a crime, so why _are_ they doing this? Roxy seems to notice that Dirk isn’t going to answer her anytime soon; she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“You guys are way too serious about this Strider pride thing, just saying.”  
“Haha.” Dirk summons up the best smile he can manage, while thanking any God whose name he can remember for the easy escape. “Yeah, maybe.”  
“Shouldn’t be much longer now.” Roxy says, and Dirk recognizes the satisfied shine in her eyes from when she last managed to beat his high score in Tony Hawk Pro Skater HD.  Dirk remembers Dave bringing him coffee and a blanket as he stayed up all night in attempt to regain his lead. He gets up from the futon, and stretches. It’s been a long day.

“I’ll go wake up Dave.”   
Roxy hums in reply.

Dirk finds Dave draped sideways across the bed, fully dressed aside from his socks (which Dirk spots on completely opposite sides of the room). Dirk sighs affectionately, and sits down on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on Dave’s shoulder.

“Hey, bro.”

Dave shifts, and murmurs something about cheesy popcorn. Dirk shakes him gently.

“Dave, wake up. Roxy’s just about done. We need you ready for when the press starts calling.”  
Dave turns around, and cracks his eyes open. When he sees Dirk, he yawns, and sits up a bit. Dirk hands him his shades.  
“What time is it?” Dave asks as he slides the frames on.  
“Just past nine pm.”   
Dave nods, and drags himself up from bed. Dirk reaches for his hand, and pulls him back down to sit next to him. Dave looks at him in question; Dirk’s fingers trace the band around Dave’s wrist.

“You’re still wearing it.” He says, and Dave huffs.  
“Of course I’m wearing it why wouldn’t I be wearing it.” When Dirk suddenly seems a bit saddened, Dave softens his voice. “Dirk?”  
Dirk shakes his head and gets up. “Let’s get to Roxy.” With that, he heads out of Dave’s bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.  
Dave stares at him for a moment, but follows without a word.

Back at Roxy’s makeshift fort, they discuss their plan of action now that the hardest part was done. Roxy is sent off with a hug from Dave, and a gangster-worthy handshake from Dirk.

“You sure you don’t want me to stick around until you’re all clear?” She offers as Dirk sees her out.  
“Nah, we’ll be good from here on out. Thanks again, for helping out.”  
“That’s what family is for.”  
Dirk raises an eyebrow at her, and her serious face breaks into a grin. She holds up her hand. Dirk sighs, and places an USB stick in her palm.  
“I hope I got them right.” He says. “Your characters have some fucked up color schemes.”  
Roxy wraps her fingers around the small storage device and tucks it away with a victorious look in her eyes. “I’m gonna enjoy myself looking through these tonight.” She muses, and Dirk cringes.   
“Don’t tell anyone I drew those.” He warns, and she waves her hand at him in dismissal.  
“Are you kidding me, I’m keeping this all to myself.”

Dirk is more relieved than he shows, and they say their goodbyes. When Dirk shuts the door, he heaves a heavy sigh. Roxy drives crazy bargains sometimes, but he’d draw her OCs in compromising positions any day if it meant she’d get them out of this mess.

The living room feels strangely empty without Roxy, and when Dirk joins Dave on the futon, Dave pretty much immediately leans against his shoulder. Dirk rests his hand on Dave’s knee, and gives him a reassuring squeeze.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Dave asks.  
“If it doesn’t, I have some wizard porn to confiscate.”  
“I am so sorry.”

There’s a grin in Dave’s voice, and Dirk can’t help but smile as well. They share a silence, and when Dirk speaks up again he sounds a lot more serious.

“Hey, Dave.”  
“Yeah?”  
“You don’t have to do this, you know that right?”  
“What are you talking about?”

Dirk studies the floor as if something interesting is happening at his feet. Dave sits up a bit, and looks at him with slight worry in his eyes.

“Is this about earlier?” Dave asks, and Dirk rubs his temples.  
“I just. I don’t want you to have to walk on your toes all the time to avoid this kind of thing. This won’t be the last time the press is going to give you shit about your love life.”  
“Yeah no need to remind me.”

It’s like Dave somehow reads into Dirk’s mind, and now it’s his turn to give Dirk a soothing touch to his knee.

“I get this isn’t the most conventional relationship,” He starts, and Dirk snorts. “but it’s the one I want. If I can’t walk down red carpets with you on my arm, I ain’t walking down them with anyone, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.”

Dirk looks up, and shows his first genuine smile of the day.  
“Exactly who is going to be on whose arm now?”   
Dave grins, and rests his head on Dirk’s shoulder.  
“What, you don’t want to be my trophy wife?”  
“Careful, or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Dirk wraps an arm around Dave’s shoulder, and Dave presses a kiss to Dirk’s cheek. Then, Dirk hands Dave his cellphone. Dave takes a deep breath, and begins punching in numbers.

“Hey, it’s Dave Strider.” His eyes search for Dirk’s while the person on the other end of the line talks loud enough for both of them to hear. Dirk nods at him. Dave smiles. “I’d like to arrange a press conference.”

**-fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, there will be an epilogue


	12. Epilogue

“A stunt? Truly?”  
“Yeah- Hey Rose, I can’t really talk right now, there’s like five phones ringing at the same time here. Madness, Sparta, you know.”  
“Very well. We will talk later.”  
“Later.” Dave hangs up with a slight frown.

“And?” Dirk asks, looking up from the dinner table.  
“Not sure.” Dave answers. He looks at his phone as if he’s expecting it to say something. “I think we’re good for now.”

There wasn’t too much resistance when Dave announced a new movie. A deconstructive parody of the romantic comedy genre; many people were excited. A few adjusted timestamps and a couple of fake correspondences between Dave and his PA was all it took to convince the media they’d fallen for another clever ploy of director Dave Strider. A few tabloids even claimed to have been a part of it, and Dave didn’t bother to stop them.

Their relief had been audible. It rang through Dave and Dirk in loud, slow waves, as soon as the press latched onto the fabricated stunt. When Dirk received a text from Roxy, containing nothing but a ‘gratz’ and a winking emote, Dirk nearly kissed the screen of his smartphone with sheer joy. Dave all but fainted as soon as he realized he actually got away with his mess-up, not coherent enough to order celebratory pizza, so Dirk did it instead.

It’s been a hectic time since the press conference. Dave’s been running back and forth between TV appearances and radio interviews, not to mention the actual movie he needed to produce in a very limited amount of time. It was fine, though. They were safe.

The phone rings again. Dave picks up, and greets the radio anchor on the other end of the line. Dirk looks at Dave as he talks about his inspiration for the script, and decides it’s been enough for now. He gets up from his chair, and drags his thumb across his throat the moment Dave looks up at him. Dave nods, and ends the call using the same excuse he just used on his sister.

Dirk opens his arms as Dave approaches him, and yelps when Dave suddenly attempts to lift him off the ground. Unsurprisingly, they lose their balance, and end on the carpeted floor of the living room. Dave rubs a newly forming bruise on his elbow, though the tears in his eyes are from laughter rather than pain. Dirk doesn’t even bother getting up; he just shakes his head at Dave while trying to hide his grin. He fails.

“Love you.” Dave says, and their smiles fade into something more affectionate.  
“I love you too.” Dirk’s hand finds Dave’s, and they intertwine fingers as they stare up at the ceiling.

When Rose calls again later that evening, Dave initially tries to get out of picking up. Dirk doesn’t let him though, and it’s with a knot in his stomach that Dave ends up answering his sister’s call. They exchange greetings, she congratulates him on his new movie. Dirk can read from Dave’s face when the serious questions start.

“While I have no intention to discredit your plotting capabilities, I do have my doubts.”  
“Well you’ve seen the articles, right. Besides, why would I lie about this?”  
“Why indeed.”

Dave swallows as their conversation falls silent, and he shoots Dirk a desperate look. Dirk shows him a sympathetic smile, right in between ‘good luck bro’ and ‘I’m really glad it’s you instead of me’. Dave rolls his eyes as he prepares to talk himself out of the barrage of inquiries he knows are headed his way shortly. As if scripted, Rose chooses that moment to speak up again.

“You do realize I will not let you hang up until I have gotten to the root of this, do you?”

Dave looks at the band around his wrist.

"It's complicated," Dave says, but it's not complicated at all.


End file.
